A New Challenge
by Nuadha
Summary: Roy Mustang returns from Ishavl in the wake of Führer Grumman's death, only for the newest threat to Amestris to make its appearance.
1. Chapter 1: Five Years

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any aspect of the Fullmetal Alchemist franchise and do not profit from this story.

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><p>Führer Grumman was dead. Roy Mustang shook his head in disbelief and sank into his chair. It had only been five years since the defeat of the Homunculi. Five years since he had transferred to Ishval. Five years since Grumman had assumed power. He leaned back in the chair and sighed. It was time.<p>

"Sir?"

Roy looked up at his blonde assistant. She had followed him to Ishval. Would she follow him to the top? He felt a smile creep up from the corners of his mouth. What am I thinking? How could I ever doubt her resolve?

"Hawkeye, find us a train. We're going to Central."

####

Alphonse felt a cool breeze wash over him as he stepped down onto the gleaming tiles. He turned back and smiled at the old man, who was leaning against the door-frame of the driver's carriage. "Thanks for the lift, sir."

The old man shook his head and grinned. "There's no need to thank me, young man. In any case, I should be thanking you. Without your help in fixing our boiler we would have been stuck in the desert for days."

Alphonse's smile broadened. Alchemy had its uses.

The old man continued, "I heard that they're going to build a rest station halfway across to prevent that sort of thing from happening. It's a good thing that you were there this time." The old man scratched the back of his head and turned to face the inside of the train. "Well, I've got some cargo to unload. I'll see you again sometime."

Alphonse thanked the driver again and turned his head to examine the railway station. The granite tiles and bright, yellow-bricked walls shone in the afternoon sun. He spotted a noticeboard on the wall about halfway down the station and made his way across the platform to it.

Under the words, "Ishval: Main Station", there was a list of all outgoing trains. Alphonse began to scan the list. His face fell when he noticed the hastily applied red stamp at the bottom of the paper. "CANCELLED" He sighed and eased around to lean against the wall, letting his bag slide from his hand to the floor. Perhaps he could-

"Alphonse!"

He started, nearly falling to the ground as he pushed himself into an upright position. He blinked, glancing sideways until his eyes fell upon the blue uniform of a blonde Amestrian officer. "Lieutenant Hawkeye!"

She gave him a slight smile. "It's Major Hawkeye now, Alphonse."

Alphonse grinned. "Congratulations, major," he said warmly. "It's nice to see you again." He gestured to the red mark on the noticeboard beside him. "I'd guess that you have something to do with this."

She nodded gravely. "All trains that follow the Central line are cancelled for security reasons. General Mustang is about to travel to Central." He voice softened. "Alphonse, führer Grumman is dead. Heart failure."

His face froze. "Oh, that's-" Comprehension sparked from behind his eyes before he could continue. "That means the the colonel, no, the general will become the new führer."

Hawkeye nodded again. "That seems likely."

A silence held the air between them before Hawkeye routed it. "So, Alphonse, I hear that you're looking for a train."

####

General Mustang surveyed the train station through the window of his carriage. He hadn't left Ishval for more than a few days in five years. This time it might be permanent. He thought of all the uncompleted projects that had been started and of those that hadn't even been begun to be implemented yet. He sighed and returned to scrutinising the station. At least some things were finished, he thought. The amount of money that had been poured into the construction of the Ishvalan rail infrastructure and the Xingese rail line had made Ishavl the envy of the other areas.

His train of thought suddenly derailed as he saw Hawkeye walk onto the train with a young, blonde man in tow. He allowed himself a smile and stood up to greet them. "Alphonse Elric, you sure have picked a great time to return."

Alphonse smiled widely in response. "It's good to see you to, sir."

Hawkeye stepped forward. "Sorry to interrupt, sir, but the train's about to leave. I suggest that we take our seats."

"Right as always, Major," said Roy as he settled back down into his seat, gesturing for the others to follow suit. "I suggest that we keep our minds off recent events for a little while."

Alphonse nodded as he sat down with his bag on his lap, noting the tired look in the General's eyes. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Well, I'd like to talk to you about some home news, but first I'd like to ask you about your journey."

"What do you want to know?"

Mustang's mouth twisted into a sly smile. "How's Mei?"

Alphonse turned red and Hawkeye gave a strained smile, her fingers to her forehead.

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><p><em>Enjoy?<em>


	2. Chapter 2: The Funeral

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any aspect of the Fullmetal Alchemist franchise and do not profit from this story.

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><p>Alphonse swung his legs over the side of the bed, yawned and hoisted himself from the mattress. Those years without sleep had left him unable to wake up without forcing the matter. Not that he minded very much. Sleep, after all, was one of life's great gifts.<p>

He stepped gingerly over to the chair where he had laid down his clothes last night. Folded, not like Edward always left his. He smiled at this thought and began to dress. Yesterday, himself, Major Hawkeye and General Mustang had arrived in Central later than planned. The volume of military traffic on the rail-lines had been heavier than they had expected. He pulled on his shirt and stopped to examine his belt. "I'll need to fix that buckle soon," he mused.

As soon as he had finished tying the laces on his shoes, Alphonse picked up a noise on the other side of the door. "Who is-"

Before he could finish his question the door flew open, clattering against the wall. A moustached giant leapt into the room and forced the shorter man into his embrace. "Alphonse Elric! I'm delighted to see you! It's been too long!"

"Major Armstrong," said Alphonse, struggling to breath in the giant's chest-crushing embrace.

"It's Colonel Armstrong now, Alphonse," replied the burly man as he released the wheezing young man from his grip.

"Oh," gasped Alphonse, hand on his chest. "That's great news, colonel."

Armstrong beamed, glancing proudly at his insignia. "I heard that you arrived yesterday with Major Hawkeye and General Mustang."

Alphonse nodded. "I had just arrived in Ishval when they were about to leave for the funeral. The major spotted me and offered me a lift to Central."

The Colonel nodded in reply and glanced at his watch. "Great Scott! It's half past nine already! Come, Alphonse," he said, turning towards the door and gesturing for Alphonse to follow, "the funeral is at twelve and we must be there for the procession."

Alphonse stopped. "Wait, I can't go to the funeral. I didn't know him personally and I'm not in the military."

Armstrong swung around, regarding Alphonse with a bemused expression. "You are Alphonse Elric," thundered the giant. "You are one of the saviours of Amestris and enemy of the homunculi."

Alphonse winced at the mention of his old foes. Old fears die hard.

"And what's more," continued Armstrong, "you are the brother of the Fullmetal Alchemist, Edward Elric. Since you're in Central, it would be a great honour for you to be at the funeral."

Alphonse blinked as Armstrong's sincere gaze fixed on him. "Well, if it's all right."

"Fantastic!" Armstrong grabbed Alphonse's hand and pulled him towards the door. Alphonse barely managed to twist around to close the door as they crossed the threshold.

####

A middle-aged man glanced sideways as he hurried down the steps from Central Train Station. It was lightly guarded. He pulled his wide-brimmed hat further down on his matted hair, obscuring his face. Most of the security personnel were assisting at the funeral of Führer Grumman. His pace quickened as he thrust his hands into the pockets of his tattered coat, nervously licking his lips as he began rummaging.

The man halted at a white van marked "Central Florists" that was parked down the street from the station, pulling a singular key from his left pocket. He placed and turned the key in the lock and yanked the door open, plunging into the driving seat. He pulled a metal object from underneath and gingerly placed it under a floral wreath on the passenger seat. He inserted the key into the ignition and turned. The engine coughed to life, sputtering as the man made to drive.

A single poppy fell from the grooves around the back door as the van pulled away from the pavement, driving slowly towards the intersection.

####

Alphonse glanced down at his weather-beaten clothes. I should have worn something better, he thought, as he watched the wreath-laden coffin pass on its way towards the grave. He immediately regretted the thought. A man had died, the führer no less, and here he was worrying about what he was wearing.

He strained to see General Mustang, glimpsing an expression of solemn thoughtfulness. This will be difficult for him. Taking charge is not an easy task. I not sure if he expected it so soon. As the crowd shifted slightly, Alphonse made out Major General Armstrong further down the line. Then again, maybe he won't have to.

####

The dark-haired man sighed in relief as he slumped into the driving seat of the white van. It was done. The flowers were laid. He took of his hat and used it to wipe the sweat from his brow He hadn't been caught. He'd barely been noticed in the hustle and bustle of the funeral preparations. He breathed deeply and straightened in the seat, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He reached over to the passenger seat to retrieve the key from where he had left it.

"Sir?"

He froze, every muscle in his body tensing, locking his bones tight. Slowly, he turned his head towards the open window, a bored-looking young soldier coming into view.

"Sir, may I see your identification card?"

The man nodded, gulping as he placed a sweaty hand into his coat pocket. He drew a pristine blue and white card and handed it to the soldier.

The soldier thanked him and began to examine the card.

The man gulped again and placed his hands on the sides of his seat, holding tightly. Hours seemed to pass as the young soldier squinted at the card. Sweat began to seep through his pores and onto his clothing, his hands turning white from the pressure as he held on tightly.

"Well, sir," said the young soldier, handing the card back to the man, "there doesn't seem to be a problem here."

The man almost sighed in relief as his fears dissipated.

"However."

The same terror that had gripped the man moments ago returned, flooding his body.

"I will need to check the back of your van. Standard procedure," he continued, noting the man's frown, "nothing to worry about."

The man reached for his key. He froze. No, I can't. There are still parts in there. If he sees them, he'll detain me. He breathed heavily as his mind raced, his arm still outstretched.

"Sir?"

A glint of metal caught his eye. He looked down at wreath on the seat beside him. His expression changed from one of fear to determination. There's nothing for it.

"Sir," repeated the soldier, his tone growing impatient. A look of dull surprise flashed across the young man's face as the occupant of the van suddenly snapped his arm out the window.

'crack'

The soldier crumpled, falling backwards to the ground.

The middle-aged man threw the gun onto the passenger seat and snatched the key, forcing it into the ignition.

The soldier coughed his last breaths, blood pooling around him as the van sped away.


	3. Chapter 3: The Chase

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any aspect of the Fullmetal Alchemist franchise and do not profit from this story

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><p>Roy ducked instinctively as the unmistakeable sound of a gunshot pierced the sombre atmosphere. He automatically reached for his pocket, but then pulled back his hand. He's almost forgotten that he didn't need his ignition gloves to perform alchemy any more. He lifted his head and glanced around. Almost everyone present had mimicked his actions and had either dropped to the ground or ducked for cover. Crowds were beginning to form around important individuals as their subordinates tried to rush them away from any potential danger. Roy ignored a similar crowd forming around himself. The gunshot had come from beyond the entrance to the cemetery.<p>

"Sir!"

Roy's thoughts were interrupted as he found himself face to face with Major Hawkeye. "Major-"

"Sir," she repeated, grabbing hold of his arm and rushing him away from the lower officers that had being milling around him. When they paused behind some trees she spoke sharply, "This is no time to stand around in the open, sir. Do you have a death wish?"

Roy nodded at her admonishment and then spoke, "Hawkeye, the shot came from beyond the gates, correct?"

She nodded in response. Her sharpshooter talents and training had left her senses finely honed. "The sound was from outside the cemetery and down the street on the right."

A panicked voice came from the right. "Sirs!"

Roy turned quickly to see a young soldier running towards them. His slowness to move had left them the nearest officers to the cemetery's gates as even the initial crowd around him had moved to safer ground. "What is it, soldier?"

The pale-faced soldier skidded to a halt in front of Roy, automatically saluting as he stopped. He was very young. He'd probably only been a child when the homunculi had been fought in Central.

The young soldier shuddered. "Sir, we've found Private Becker." The young man shuddered once more. "He's dead, sir. Somebody shot him! We've set up a static perimeter around the cemetery, sir, in case whoever did this comes back. But, Private Meyer says that he saw a white florists van swerve around the corner of the street."

Roy's eyes widened. A florist's van? Suddenly, it clicked. "What's your name, Private?"

The young man looked surprised at the question, but answered swiftly, if haltingly, "Lehmann, sir. Private Lehmann."

"Lehmann," said Roy, "go back to your unit and organise a search. Groups of three. Draft as many as you think you need to cover the whole city. Also, get to a telephone and call a Section Three squad down to cemetery."

"Yes, general," said the soldier, saluting once more before he ran back towards the gates.

Hawkeye looked at Roy. Section Three? "You think there may be a-"

Roy nodded, and then glanced around the cemetery. Seeing that the confusion was subsiding as the majority of the senior officers had left through the back exits, he strode forward from behind the trees. "Attention!"

Head turned towards Roy as he began issuing orders, first in bewilderment, but then in relief when they saw who was taking charge of the situation.

"Everybody out of the cemetery, now! There's a possibility of a bomb being present! I repeat, Everybody out, now! You will find a search being organised for a white van and I suggest that you take part!"

The remaining officers began to rush from the cemetery as Roy made his pronouncements, leaving the wreath-laden coffin of Führer Grumman unattended.

####

Alphonse rushed down the side-street, his boots landing heavily in the puddles formed by the nights rain. The high buildings to either side prevented the suns rays from evaporating the water. He darted left around a corner. He had spent much time in Central when he and his brother had been travelling together and knew most of the quickest routes around the city, which his quarry, evidently, did not.

He stopped at an opening to a main road and glanced down it. A white van marked "Central Florists" was hurtling down the road, towards him. He smiled. Just as Private Meyer said. As the van came closer, he raised his arms and drew his hands together.

'clap'

Four pieces of concrete rose from the ground in the middle of the street, forming sharp spears that skewered the tires of the van as it passed Alphonse. The van skidded, swinging wildly as the tires deflated. The van continued along its erratic path until it hit the now higher curb. A door swung open and a man stumbled from the van, clutching a wreath.

Alphonse walked slowly towards the shocked man. "Hey-"

The dishevelled man looked up sharply, taking in Alphonse for the first time. He began to back way.

Alphonse continued, "I just want to talk."

The man stopped, regarded Alphonse with a bemused expression and then nodded.

Alphonse walked towards the man, but just as he was about to stop the man smiled, raising a gun from beneath the wreath.

Alphonse raised his arms reflexively.

'clap'

A wall of concrete rose up in front of him, blocking the gun-toting man from view. Alphonse expected to hear the crack of the gun and the ricochet of the bullet, but was instead greeted with the sound of a thump as something hit his makeshift wall.

"You can come out now."

Alphonse poked his head out from behind the wall, his eyes widening in surprise as he took in the figure that stood over the unconscious form of the van-driver. "Brother!"

Edward grinned at his brother's exclamation. "Can't seem to get along without me, can you Alphonse?"

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><p>This chapter took longer than expected to be finished.<p> 


	4. Chapter 4: The Bomb

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any aspect of the Fullmetal Alchemist franchise and do not profit from this story.

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><p>Roy tapped a foot against the ground and glanced up and down the street that lay adjacent to the cemetery. The large mass of soldiers that guarded the area began to thin as groups of three or four splintered off, cautiously moving into the various side-alleys and streets that branched from the main road. The confusion and near-panic that had gripped the troops just minutes beforehand had been replaced with a nervous determination. The majority of them were fresh out of basic training, as standard Amestrian military practice dictated that the more experienced and promising soldiers be sent to defend the borders. The policy had been instituted by Führer Bradley and while it had seemed like a practical decision at the time, in hindsight it was simply a method to prevent any power base other than Bradley's from building up in the Capital.<p>

An armoured van came into view as it rounded the corner at the end of the street, derailing Roy's train of thought. The heavy vehicle trundled to a stop just outside the barricades that were being maintained halfway down the road. A driver's side door swung open and a stout man stepped down to the ground. He raised a fist and, in quick succession, hit the side of the van three times. The double doors at the rear of the vehicle opened and four figures emerged from its confines. Each wore a bulky, flame-proof suit designed to protect them from blasts. The heavyset man waved them towards the gates of the cemetery and then made his way towards the tent, under which Roy and Major Hawkeye stood.

The man spoke, "Major Köhler, sir". He raised an arm to salute. "Head of Section Three, Explosives and Munitions." The major lowered his arm and continued, "I've ordered my men to conduct a sweep of the cemetery. If any thing's there we'll find it."

Roy nodded. "Make sure that you do, major."

Köhler rubbed his hands together in apparent glee. "I hope we do find something. It's not often that we're called out, especially to such a prestigious function." He smirked at his own joke and then turned to walk off. "I must attend to my men, sir."

Roy sighed as the man took his leave. "Why is he still on the payroll?" The general had worked with the man previously, helping to develop the fire-proof suits that the men entering the cemetery now wore. Roy found the man as unpleasant now as he did then.

Hawkeye answered, "His record speaks for for itself, sir. Deaths in his unit dropped 90% since he took over and every device that his unit has encountered has so far been disabled safely."

Roy sighed again. "It was a rhetorical question, Hawkeye."

####

Alphonse once again clapped his hands and let the concrete wall he had hastily erected fall back into the ground. As the wall collapsed he rushed over to Edward and hugged him.

Edward gasped as the wind was knocked out of him. "Al, how much time have you been spending with Major Armstrong?"

Alphonse released Edward from the embrace and stepped backwards, flashing a smile. "It's Colonel Armstrong now, brother."

Ed returned the smile. "Wow. That's great news, Al!" He turned and kicked the unconscious man in the foot. "So, would you mind telling me who your friend here is?"

Alphonse shook his head. "I don't know who he is, brother." He gestured towards the van. "I was at at the funeral of Führer Grumman and –" He paused. "You do know that the Führer is dead?"

Edward nodded, the smile gone from his face. "I heard on the train to Central. I was lucky to leave before all traffic was halted, even if we were delayed."

Alphonse continued, "I was at the funeral and I heard a shot from outside, so I ran out to see what was happening." His voice fell slightly. "There was a dead soldier around where the sound of the shot had come from and another soldier told me that he had seen a white florists van driving away, so I took a short cut and, well, here we are."

Alphonse finished speaking quickly. The sight of the body had brought back memories. He had thought that those days where behind him. Sure, he had gotten into a few difficult situations while in Xing, but nobody had died.

"So, will we bring him to headquarters?" Edward looked pointedly at his brother. "You've been back longer than I have."

Edward's question broke his brother out of his reflections. "Em, we should probably find General Mustang and bring the man to him."

Edward's face set. "Ah, him."

####

Private Meyer had been watching the scene unfolding before him with something approaching amazement. The two blonde men in the street before him appeared to be having somewhat of a reunion and were now chatting casually over the unconscious form of a middle-aged man.

Meyer's two colleagues were equally enthralled. Concrete spears jutted from the ground. The white van that the had been told about was now wedged into the curb and what was presumably its occupant lay sprawled on the ground. And the wall that had just fallen into the ground? The man with the shorter hair was obviously an alchemist.

The three men approached cautiously, catching the attention shorter-haired man. He smiled and waved them over.

Suddenly, it clicked in Meyer's brain. Young. Blonde hair. Alchemy. He walked over to the smiling young man and saluted. "Fullmetal Alchemist, sir!"

The young man gave a sidelong glance towards the longer-haired man and sighed.

####

Most of the patrols had left the makeshift staging area that Mustang had set up when he heard the sound of footsteps from outside his tent.

Hawkeye walked inside. "Major General Armstrong to see you, sir."

Roy jumped from his seat as the lean woman marched into the tent with all the regal authority that her personality commanded.

"Sitting in your tent while your men do all the work. You haven't changed much."

"Not everybody is as gung-ho as you, Olivier."

Her eyes narrowed. "It's not about being gung-ho, it's about setting an example."

"So where were you then?"

She snorted. "Escorting the officers to a safe location. The softness among the higher ranks is appalling. If they weren't necessary for administration, I'd have them all kicked out."

Roy smirked. "Contemplating a coup, are you?"

Olivier rolled her eyes at the suggestion. "Stolen authority never lasts." They were dancing around the subject now.

He nodded in agreement, but his reply was cut off by Hawkeye.

"With respect, sirs, one of you will be the next Führer. The question of succession is not something that can be left hanging, especially with attacks such as the one that just happened. I suggest that you both resolve this problem quickly. Now, if possible."

The corners of Olivier's lips rose. "Major Hawkeye, your words are refreshing, considering the snivelling subservience that we usually get around here. I believe that I've asked this before, but would you care to come work for me?"

Roy raised his arms to protest, but was once again cut off by Hawkeye. "Not a chance, sir."

"I admire your loyalty, major, even if it is to him." She scowled at Mustang. "We should follow her advice."

Roy nodded, hopping that this time he would get a word in. "I agree, but after we catch this van."

Any further conversation on the subject was prevented when a grinning Major Köhler entered the tent. He nodded to Major General Armstrong before delicately placing a wreath and a poppy on the fold-up desk that Roy stood behind. "It's magnificent, sir. Absolutely magnificent."

Roy eyed the assembled flowers suspiciously. "What is, major."

The major licked his lips. "Why, the whole contraption, sir. The wreaths, more than a dozen of them, are filled with explosives." He picked up the wreath from the table and snapped it. A black powder poured from the tube and onto the table.

Köhler dropped the wreath back onto the table and rubbed his hands together until they become covered with the powder. "The best part is the sheer amount of damage that this could have caused. The amount of explosives, the arrangement of the explosives, the packaging. Everything! Those that would have survived the initial blast would have be mowed down by shrapnel." He barked out a laugh. "You're lucky you weren't all turned into Cretan cheese."

A look of disgust came across Roy's features, but he quickly suppressed it. "A timer?"

Köhler's looked as if he had not heard the General. "Sorry, sir!"

Roy's voice grew louder. "A timer! There must have been a timer, so that whoever did this would be able to detonate the bomb when the most people were there."

"Of course, sir. I hadn't gotten around to mentioning it." He picked up the poppy from the table. We found the timer concealed in a bunch on these flowers on the coffin. Smart work, I must say."

Olivier interrupted. "How much time was left on the timer?"

"When we found it, there was about 15 minutes left on it. Of course, that was nearly ten minutes ago."

####

Central train station was busy. As the majority of those attending the funeral of the now deceased Führer had arrived late last night or earlier that morning, the train lines had been reopened to civilian traffic.

Many of the people now rushing to and fro on the stations crowded platforms had grumbled loudly when their journeys had been cancelled. Grumman wasn't exactly a beloved figure. He was, as was often said, no King Bradley. His ascension then, following the death of Bradley at the hands of the rogue alchemists, came somewhat as a surprise.

Two men who held these views were walking slowly down a platform. They both wore the dark blue uniform of station guards. Guards Möller and Müller were arguing over the succession. It was obvious that Bradley's son was too young and Grumman had no living heirs, so their attentions turned to other potential candidates.

Möller clapped his friend on the back. "It's obviously going to be General Mustang. I mean, who else is there?"

Müller answered, "Major General Armstrong, maybe."

Möller waved a hand dismissively. "She's just a woman."

"Don't let her hear you say that, or her men for that matter. Not if you want to live anyway."

Möller laughed. "I can take 'em. Just bring them on."

Their conversation was cut short as a ringing sound assaulted their ears from behind them. They turned to locate the source of the noise.

The ringing stopped.

The last thing that Möller and Müller heard as they attempted to find the source of now stopped ringing was a roar as the very air around them seemed to explode.

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><p><em>For the purposes of this story several aspects of the Amestrian government have been either altered slightly or are assumed to have existed. I hope that there are no problems.<em>


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